


Sleeping With The Enemy

by MotherofOCs



Category: Casino Royale (1967), James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22834651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherofOCs/pseuds/MotherofOCs
Summary: She had her entire life ahead of her but it was tragically taken away by one man. Dr. Girard was his captive now and there was nothing she could do about it.
Relationships: Le Chiffre/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Sleeping With The Enemy

I would never be able to pinpoint the very moment I had ruined my own life. The very moment I had been on the path of no return. I would lay awake every night just raking through my brain to find the singular moment where I could have done something different in order to be at home, warm in my bed, ready for the next boring repetitive day. Ah, domestic bliss. I couldn’t put into words what I felt when I thought back to simpler days where I would get off a 10-hour shift, toss my scrubs and cuddle up with a bottle of wine and my DVR. Those days were well behind me now and I couldn’t recognize that new 29-year-old surgeon if she kicked me in the ass. I always thought it was something I did, something that led up to where I was now. Maybe if I had gone to John Hopkins or Yale instead of Harvard for school. Maybe some other woman would be in the position I was. Maybe if I hadn’t thrown out every puffy package that looked like some bullshit junk mail or promo I wouldn’t be here right now. The ocean waves brought me out of my deep thought as they crashed up onto the barricade. The high tide must be coming in right about now. I had been alone with my thoughts for some time now, just sitting in the villa, complete darkness minus the moonlight that poured in, illuminating all that could be seen from the balcony. I sighed deeply and looked down at my wrist, the Cartier watch gleaming in the light. It was a gift of gratitude from him but he was always buying me pretty things. The pretty things weren’t for me, not directly anyway. They were for him and for his ego. If I was to strut around on his arm, I would have to have pretty things. 

_ “Something pretty, for my something pretty.”  _ I shuddered at the memory, grabbing the glass of merlot I had on the end table and walking to the open doors of the balcony. The sheer curtains danced in the wind, I didn’t dare close the doors and lose the fresh air that had leaked into the villa leave. The ocean replaced the smell of stale cigarettes that never seemed to leave any room he walked into. My eyes drifted from the glass I held to the banister I now learned my forearms against, breathing in the cool night air. Where he ran off to tonight, I didn't know, nor did I care in the slightest. All I knew is it meant I didn’t have to shimmy into a gown and make pleasantries with men I had no intention of ever seeing again. It meant I got to sit around, maybe watch something on HBO, go to the spa, or anything else I pleased...minus leaving. 

I watched the waves, in and out, in and out, in and out. Over and over again, wishing I could be one of the broken coconuts that fell into the ocean, in danger of being swept far away. I would be able to float off the coast, somewhere far, or maybe I’d drown by the grace of God. Once I heard the door click shut and the sound of his dress shoes hitting the marble floor, I shivered. I had crossed my arms over one another, standing but still facing the water, my white sweater hanging off my shoulder, slipping ever so slightly. Another gift for his pretty thing. I heard his lighter flick and rolled my eyes, glancing at the ashtray that sat a foot away from me. His inhaler clanked on the glass table behind me, near the door. Why he was so careless with it I would never know. His fingers grazed the small of my back as he stood next to me, as if his loudness wasn’t enough to announce his return. I didn’t ask how the dinner was or the meeting or whatever it was. I didn’t care. 

“They missed you tonight. Everyone wouldn’t stop asking where the beautiful doctor was this evening.” The beautiful doctor. His pet. His trophy. My captor. I sighed, taking a sip while he exhaled the expensive cigarette out, the wind blowing it back into the villa. I rolled my eyes, hoping the large french doors to the bedroom would be enough to keep it out tonight. 

“A pity, I’m sure.” I saw him crack a smirk for a small second and let out a puff of laughter. I rolled my eyes, gulping down the last of my wine, and turning to the living space.

“I’m going to bed.” I announced, being stopped in my pursuit by the grip he now had on my wrist, tsking his tongue as I tried to do so. 

“Well, that was rude. Manners.” I looked up at him, his cruel, smarmy face giving me no indication if he was going to hit me or just scold me this time. If he wasn’t so horrid, I might have found him handsome. He had a charming look about him, his brown eye was hypnotizing at best while his pale blue eyes, scarred down the lid made him look dangerous. And he was dangerous. My eyes never left his, never blinking. I looked down and reached into his suit jacket with my left hand, pulling out the handkerchief he kept in his breast pocket. I wrapped the cloth around my finger, lightly pressing the fabric to the corner of his eye, wiping away the blood.He never let go of my right wrist, even as I struggled to put the flimsy thing back in his jacket. He pulled, not very hard, but hard enough to make me stumble into him, my hand wrapped around my glass being the only thing that kept us apart. I placed my hand on the back of his neck, lightly scratching the nape of his neck. Without any emotion in my eyes, I placed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth and he released my wrist, his hand coming down to rest on my hip as I pulled away.

“I’ve had an exhausting day. I’m going to head to bed.” I repeated in a sweeter tone, turning to leave and thankfully he let me. 

“I’ll be in in a minute.” He called after me, still finishing the cigarette in his hand. I placed the glass on the table near the bar and rounded the table to get to the french doors.

“Don’t hold your breath.” I mumbled, opening the doors to reveal a king sized bed, my satin nightgown, another pretty thing, laying out, ready for me.

“I’m sorry, what was that Dr. Girard?” I spun around at his voice, my back to the doors, a fake smile forcing it’s way onto my face.

“I said goodnight Le Chiffre.” Numbers.....fucking numbers. A year being slave to Le Chiffre and I hadn’t even gotten a name from him. He raised the glass of scotch he just poured to me and nodded.

“Sweet dreams, mon ange.” Everything told me to go to bed. Everything but that little voice.

“Le Chiffre?” He looked up, his eyes dark and his mouth crooked into that smirk.

“Take your pill before you go....before you  _ come  _ to bed.”

“Thank you, mon ange.”  _ My angel, good God. Someone kill me.  _

“Of course.” I said, closing the door quickly and throwing my clothes into the corner of the room, something he hated. That damn wolfy grin he had, that look he got in his eyes when I wore an outfit he picked out. How appropriate he was a wolf. Mon loup and me? If you asked him I was his trophy, his prize, his angel, his treasure. Me? I’m his captif and nothing more. 

The faux fur blankets were my favorite. I loved pulling it up underneath my chin, snuggling into the pillows and falling asleep. He couldn’t get me in my sleep, he couldnt put his claws in me when I was asleep. He must have been out for no more than 10 minutes when he came into the room, closing the doors behind him. I always faced the far side away from the doors, controlling my breathing so he would think I was asleep. Somehow, even in a bed as big as this one, he was still too close, regardless if we were touching or not. Some days I wished Stockholm would set in but it never did. When I heard his watch come off and both that and his inhaler hit the side table I knew he was peeling his t shirt off next. I felt the covers shift along with the mattress as his body got closer and closer to mine. 

“You didn’t take your pill.” I said matter-of-fact,I felt him placed his lips to the back of my head and turn over on his side, a groan escaping his lips as he sauntered to the bathroom. He never touched me when we slept next to one another. He never poked or prodded. He would place a kiss to the back of my head, or to my neck, maybe even inhale my scent. But he would always turn over to fall asleep and leave me be. I heard the water go on and off. I heard the pill bottle being opened and the glass clank on the sink before he turned off the light and came back to bed.

I was captured a year ago by Le Chiffre to be a distraction and a helping hand to those in Quantum. Not every terrorist agency has a surgeon on call. I had to do my share of stitches, my share of prescriptions and a surgery here and there for everything between a graze and a blown away wound. I was by Le Chiffre’s side every day since I was taken. I was compensated heavily but never was I allowed to use my own bank account, never allowed to contact my family or my friends. I was recently gifted my own cell phone about 6 months ago. I had made the mistake of trying to call my mother, a phone call that was cut short by Le Chiffre, snagging the phone out of my hands and tossing it across the room, smashing it into pieces. He scolded me, pulled me over his knee, spanked me like I was a child. I sat in the shower after that. I sat in the shower with all of my clothes on, almost in a trance. I didn’t bother locking the door and he never bothered knocking. He came in and saw me sitting there, like a wet puppy. He had a towel in his hands when he came in, his eyes showing more emotion than usual, maybe a look of regret but it wasn't much. I was soaking, staring at my feet as he turned off the water and pulled me to my feet. His fingers slowly undid the buttons on my blouse, exposing one of the many lingerie pieces he had bestowed upon me in the last several months. I rung my hair out onto the tile and stepped out of my jeans. Le Chiffre held out the towel, wrapping me up in it. I realized it was warm, like he put it in the dryer for a few minutes before coming into the bathroom. Once wrapped up in the towel, I watched him behind me in the mirror as he pulled my hair up and out of my face, placing a kiss on my temple when he was done. I allowed myself to close my eyes, to lean back into his chest and try to rid my mind of what had just happened. This man who was taking care of me only seconds ago was beating me for disobedience. 

“Come.” It was one word and with it he led me to the bedroom we shared, pulling me up into his lap and allowing me to process what had just happened.

“I need you to be perfect. Do you understand?” He mumbled into the top of my head. I nodded. It wasn’t an apology but it was as close as I would ever get. From then on, I would be perfect despite how agonizing it was to be with him every day. Some days I would see the man, the man who had a given name, the man who would cancel meetings to take me to dinner, leave me gifts in the morning if he had to jet off so I would have something to do, the man who would hold me at night when nightmares ensued. Most days I would see the monster. The monster who would fly off the handle at the drop of a pin, who would take his aggressions out on me if he wasn't winning, who would lock me away for hours at a time to make sure I would stay put. I held onto the moments with the man though. I held onto them because like any naive woman, I believe I could change the monster, if given enough time. He was my beast and I his beauty.

When I awoke the next morning, it was because of the constant sound of zippers. My eyes fluttered open and I turned over, seeing his side of the bed unoccupied as usual. He was always up before me, usually to go to the gym or to make phone calls. I sat up and a yawn escaped my lips, causing him to turn around from our matching luggage and stand up. 

“Good morning, there’s coffee and breakfast on the table in the living quarters if you so choose to indulge.” I swung my legs from the bed and snagged the black satin robe that hung up on the hook. I watched him as I tied it onto my body. I watched the way put on his cufflinks, securing one of his many black shirts. He had the three buttons undone and it was so unlike him to not be all put together. As I passed him to get to the living space, his hand brushed against my waist and I tried to ignore it. I would never be able to ignore him. I made myself a plate and set it outside, sucking the syrup off the tips of my fingers, making brief eye contact with Le Chiffre who was working on the other cuff now with that smirk that never seemed to leave his face. I poured two cups of coffee and brought them out to where I planned to sit. He drank his coffee like he liked everything else. Black. I had gotten into a habit of bringing him things. Coffee in the morning, a scotch in the evening, a lighter when he forgot his at the table. I played with my eggs, pushing them around the plate, hunger not plaguing me in that moment. I heard his dress shoes click through the villa and onto the patio where he pulled out the wickered chair next to me, placing a kiss to the side of my head as he grabbed the cup of coffee. I was desensitized to him at this point whether he knew it or not. There wasn’t much he could do to me that would phase me. 

“They brought up hazelnut but I know how you prefer the vanilla. So I sent it back.” I held the mug to my chest, drinking thankfully. Sometimes he could be sweet.

“And the man who brought it up?” I inquired, pulling my legs up underneath me, tucking them in. A devilish smile played about his lips as he pulled the mug to them, his arm resting on the back of my chair. 

“What about him?” 

“Were you nice?” I pressed. It wouldn’t be the first time he had hurt or murdered someone for something silly. 

“I was a perfect gentleman. As nice as he deserved.” I scoffed, something that could have been mistaken for laughter. Something that sounded like an invitation to more conversation. We usually never spoke. We usually had words here and there, I played the wife, the jealous girlfriend, the perfect mistress, whatever he needed for the night to win his hands. 

“You’ve always look so lovely in black.” He said, his thumb, lazily tracing circles around my satin covered shoulder blade. I sipped the coffee, ignoring his comment. Not because it made me uncomfortable, but because I had no idea where to go from here.

“Are we leaving today? I saw you packing.” He shook his head, looking out into the ocean, his eyes squinting. 

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning after breakfast. Tonight is the last game.” He said resting his chin on my shoulder after pulling down the robe and the spaghetti strap that held me together and placing a lingering kiss on my exposed skin. 

“I need you to be perfect tonight. Can you do that for me belle?” He asked, placing another burning kiss to the top of my shoulder, up my neck and to my jawline where he stopped. 

“Which dress?” Was that too terse? Should I have indulged him a little longer? Should I have pretended a bit longer? Continued this charade? This game of house we were playing? His demeanor changed with my words. I knew it was too terse. He stood abruptly, taking my plate and the mugs with him into the other room.

“Surprise me.” 

* * *

I looked in the mirror, adjusting the black robe I still had on from the morning. I hadn’t done much that day in Le Chiffre’s absence. I made it to the spa to get my nails done to look presentable. For once I was actually Dr. Girard, a renowned surgeon. But I was also Dr. Girard, arm candy of Le Chiffre. I was touching up mascara when I heard him come in to get dressed. He would go down at the start and I would go down half an hour after starting time just in time to get the attention of those around the table to distract them. He had done this with Venka...Valenka, I think her name was. She was around for the first few months that I was with Le Chiffre. I was only there for surgeries, more distraction for more money moves. I was fine with that. Valenka was very much not for that, evident by the several times she had attempted to kill me and Le Chiffre came back to the room with Valenka knocked out in the corner of the room or her zip-tied to a chair so she couldn’t hurt me. Eventually, she just disappeared and I never asked any questions. I didn’t want to know the answer.

“Loup?” I called out, hoping he would pop his head in if only it was to say he was done being upset with me. He appeared in the door, holding the door frame lightly. He was always so handsome in his black on black on black. He looked particularly evil but so devilishly handsome I wanted to kill myself. I hated myself for how it made me feel.

“I’m heading down to the tournament. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He said, glancing down at my chest then back to my eyes before disappearing again. The door clicked as I looked down to see the sheerness of the robe betraying me, leaving nothing to the imagination. I slipped on my gold satin gown, taking time to adjust the deep v that plunged down, exposing a large amount of my cleavage. I walked out of the bathroom to grab the heels I had placed on the bed to see them sitting next to a black box with a note. I recognized the scribble as Le Chiffre’s and sat next to the box, unfolding the letter.

_ Something pretty for my something pretty. _

It was the same every time. Every note had the same series of words. I tossed the note aside and opened the box revealing a delicate set of gold and diamond drop earrings and a matching necklace that would hang between my breast. He was so good at that. So good at being evil then being a saintly man, one who seems like he would do anything to please me. I glanced in the mirror once more, pulling a few golden hairs loose from my bun to frame my face and made my way down to the table. Once I got there the game was in full swing but Le Chiffre didn't have a drink in his hand yet. I held my clutch in my hand, a small sparkling thing to match the rest of me. His trophy. His prize. He pressed his index to his temple, his ring finger playing around his lips. His tell. He had a bad hand but it was only the first few cards. He would be fine. I put on my facade, my lips curled into a smirk as I placed my clutch on a table outside the game and walked behind Le Chiffre, allowing the other playing to drink in my figure. I ran my freshly manicured hands down his chest, one sneaking it's way into his jacket to rest on his heart. I pressed my exposed cleavage into the back of his head briefly, my mouth trailing down his neck and back up to his earlobe, nipping it lightly. I prayed they focused on my neckline rather than the stakes at hand.

“Good luck my love.” I cooed, loud enough so the table would hear. I slid my hands from his chest and walked back to grab my bag and headed to the bar where several other trophies stood. One I recognized as Solange Dimitrios. She had the same idea, wearing a form fitting gown. I smiled at her and she raised her glass of champagne to me, a smile on her face. I never got to see friendly faces and if I do it’s a false friendly face of a grimey man that wants to throw his money at Le Chiffre. 

“Can I get you anything ma’am?” I propped myself up on the barstool and crossed my legs, exposing the slit in the side that was damn near hidden. My eyes glanced to Le Chiffre who was focused on his cards. I learned a long time ago to never bother him when chips were concerned.

“MaCallan 25, and a french martini.” I said putting my things aside and folding my hands on the bar. He was quick, bringing out the scotch and martini before I could even greet the others around me. 

“Thank you.” I smiled, stepping down off the chair, turning right into the man of the hour. His hands balled the fabric at my waist and he buried his face into my neck, inhaling deeply. Le Chiffre put both hands on either side of me on the bar, blocking me in, drinking me in with his eyes. 

“Was this a good surprise?” I said lowly, at just above a whisper. He dropped an arm, his fingers trailing down from the strap to the top of my thigh where my leg was making a surprise appearance in the slit of the dress.

“You look absolutely divine. I very much like this part.” He said, the wolfy grin making an appearance as he ran his fingers up my thigh, underneath the fabric.

“Did I buy you this?” He asked, his eyes still marveling at the golden fabric that clung to my body. I shook my head lightly, biting my lip, feeling bashful in the face of my monster. Maybe this once, I could play pretend. I ran my hand up his chest again, toying with the black bowtie he insisted on wearing. 

“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if you would have bought it for me.” I teased, reaching behind me and handing him his drink, nodding in the direction of the table. I ran both hands down his vest, lightly placing my fingertips on his lower abdomen. 

“Go on.” He snagged my hand, bringing the back to his lips.

“I can’t lose with lady luck in my corner.” He left me with a wink and suddenly Solange was in my presence. 

“Le Chiffre gets more and more handsome every time I see him. Wanna trade for the night?” She teased, making me choke on my martini. 

“Maybe when your husband actually wins a hand.” I teased back, bumping her with my hip, earning a laugh.

“I don’t know why you don't come out more. They’re both running off all the time for work. I’m sure he leaves you at home as much as Alex does me. We should have our own adventures.” She had a smile that was full of mischief. I sipped my martini and glanced at the game again before responding to Solange.

“I don’t know. Le Chiffre likes to keep me close.” I said, hoping to not alarm her in anyway that anything was happening. That I wasn’t anything more than deeply in love with Le Chiffre. 

“I wish Alex felt the same about me as Le Chiffre does about you. There’s so much love in his eyes when he looks at you.” I looked to my beast, my monster, and saw him glance down at his hand. He was as good at this facade as I was.

“I know.” I trailed off, still watching the man play. 

“Tell me all about the new house, I have to come up some time to see it.” She said, placing her hand on my own. I smiled. Which house she was talking about I didn’t know. I didn’t speak with wives or mistresses much. Any information they got came from Le Chiffre and thus from their husbands.    
  


“Mrs. Dimitrios, looking as breathtaking as ever.” His smooth accent came from behind me and I felt him wrap both arms around my midsection, pulling me close so my ass was pressed up against his pelvis.

“I could say the same thing about you Dr. Girard. A vision as always.” Dimitrios said, taking my hand and giving it a kiss. Solange rolled her eyes and looked at me with a helpless look.

“See what I mean?” I stifled a laugh and looked up to Le Chiffre who gave me a small squeeze to get my attention. I turned my head, looking up at his beautifully scarred face.

“If you both don’t mind, I’d like to steal my treasure away for this hour break.” He said looking down at me and attacking my mouth with a long kiss. The kind that made me think about it hours later. 

“Have fun.” Solange smiled, shooing us off to our villa. I felt his hand slip lower and lower as we walked to the elevator that took us to the main floor, his fingers pulling up at the fabric raising my slit higher and higher. I lightly slapped his hands away and he took it as a challenge, pushing me back into the wall of the elevator, his smirk returning to his face.

“You’re going to get us in trouble.” He placed his hands back where they originally were, they ran under my dress and traced shapes while his face buried itself into my neck, leaving peppered kisses as he nuzzled and nipped.

“I quite like being bad.” The elevator dinged and I pushed him off of me lightly and as he went I caught a whiff of the scotch on his breath. The villa wasn’t far and I was the only one to have the key, which I cursed as I dug through my purse, Le Chiffre attacking my neck once more, his hands pawing at the straps on the dress I had slinked into. I couldn’t open the door fast enough, turning my back to it as I stumbled in backward, my lower legs hitting the couch, stopping me. He went to grab the back of my neck to kiss me again and I scurried back to the bedroom, my hands fiddling with the french doors but managing to open them as he approached me once more, that devil smirk on his face. He pulled at his bowtie, undoing it completely then starting on a few buttons. 

“You’re afraid of me.” He said, coming closer and closer until my knees hit the bed and I fell backward, my elbows propping myself up to see him and I shook my head. He pushed my knees apart with his own and stood between them, his hands coming up my legs again, his fingers dancing up my thighs and over my hips where he retracted them quickly. And raised an eyebrow at me.

“No underwear?” He asked, peering up the gown to my exposed bottom half. I didn't want any lines in my dress but I’d be lying if this fantasy ever passed through my head one or twice. 

“This isn’t exactly a dress one wears underwear with.” He dropped to his knees, placing a kiss on the inside of my thigh.

“I see that.” He trailed his kisses up further and further and I felt my whole body tense. I knew he could feel it because he came up from the ground and allowed me to kick my shoes off and back up so my entire body was splayed across the bed. He crawled up my frame, studying my face and brushing the blonde strands away.

“You know I am a bad man.” I nodded and he placed a kiss to the side of my neck. My breath was still hitched in my throat and I wasn’t sure on how to answer or even speak at this point. He was a monster. My monster. A monster I had been laying with for months but had never dared pursued. I hated him. I wanted to hate him. No I hated him.

“But, I could be very good. Sweet even.” He purred, kissing the other side of my neck. His fingers brushed against my what I assumed was wetness, rubbing circles lightly, caressing me, my body relaxing into his touch. I was to be bold. I had to be. I pulled up my dress so it pooled around my waist and exposed myself fully to the beast that kept me prisoner. 

“Fuck me.” I whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear me but he of course did. His eyes looked at me surprised at my mouth, kissing me ever so lightly. 

“You want me to fuck you?” He inquired, placing another kiss on my mouth, it was hot when he left and I wanted it back. I hated myself for wanting it back. I whined, groaning into his touch as he pushed his fingers into me.

“Like this?” He inquired again, eliciting another moan from me, my body curling into his hand. My boldness overtook me as I pulled on his belt, doing my best to expose him. 

“Impatient ma belle, ever so impatient.” He mumbled into my chest. I sighed, frustrated at his attempts to keep me from my only quest. He never denied me anything if it were reasonable and this seemed more than reasonable to me. He was so quick, with my whining, he made a swift movement, silencing me with wildly hard strokes, making me gasp every time. He felt...superb. Better than what I had remembered sex was. He was rough in his thrusts but his kisses were sweet and frequent. 

“Le...oh Le..” It took me ages to even try to get his name out. 

“Jean.” My eyes widened at his whisper, his thrusts becoming more erratic and frequent.

“Jean.” I repeated, a deep moan coming from the depths I didn’t even know existed. He groaned, his face buried into my neck, breathing heavy.

“Say it again.” he begged. I had never heard him be so vulnerable before. I had never heard this tone in his voice.

“Jean....Jean please don't stop.” I was so close and I could tell by his sporadic movements, he was close. His hands gripped my hips harder, hooking my leg around his lower back and emptied himself into me.  _ Great, I have to find a new dress _ . The alarm went off on his phone and he placed several kisses on my lips before rolling off and smoothing his outfit. I stood, my legs faulting me. He reached out and guided me back to the bed and onto my back.

“I don’t want you back down there. I want to come back after winning and see you just the way you are.”

“In a blissful state?” I laughed as he redid his bowtie.

“Precisely.” He smirked, feeling as if he had won by finally bedding the doctor. No. It is I who has won this round. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach but I will appeal to this man through his other appetites...and perhaps my own. As soon as I heard the door click I pulled myself from the bed and slipped off the golden mess, pulling on my black robe. It is his favorite color after all. 

Jean...Jean...His name is Jean. It kept playing over and over and over again in my head. He actually gave me his name. Whether it was real or not I didn’t know nor did I care. I finally had something I could use to humanize him for once. Jean. It fit him very well, the name Jean. His mother was probably French, his father Albanian by the accent. I never knew much about him, about Jean. I knew he had haemolacria, that’s what caused the weeping blood. His favorite joke.

_ Weeping blood merely comes from the derangement of the tear duct. Nothing sinister.  _

But what they didn’t know is it was sinister to him. He loved that part about him and I could see it when he wept. It made him feel more dangerous than he already was. I sighed, pouring myself a glass of the merlot I had leftover from the night before. I set out two glasses and the bottle on the side table of the couch. It was so white, why is everything in the Bahamas so white? It was such a big contrast when he came in from whatever he was doing in all black and he sat outside with all of the tropical colors and the white furniture. My eyes scanned the room and it looked as disheveled as I did minutes earlier. A whole year I had been able to deny him, to stay away from him, to not let him in and tonight I faltered. Tonight I just pretended for a moment to actually be in love with him. I wish I hadn’t now that guilt set in. My stomach felt like there was an animal inside me, doing backflips. I picked up the table that fell down frantically and smoothed the bed linens so they looked perfect. Perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. That’s what I was every day and it was exhausting to be perfect every day. My dress was pooled in the corner, my hands shaking as I picked it up and hung it on its hanger, zipping it back in its garment bag and hanging it up behind our luggage. My throat burned and I ran to the bathroom, throwing open the lid of the toilet and heaving. I let him inside me. I let all of him inside me. Heave. My skin still burned where his hands were, where his lips were. Another heave. I rested my head on the cool edge of the seat, trying to control my breathing. I felt better after throwing up what little was in my stomach but I was still upset with myself. I stood from the toilet and turned to the sink, throwing on the faucet and splashing my face with cold water. I barely recognized the woman who stared back at me in the mirror. She wasn’t as confident or as bright as I remember. She was making the best of her situation but maybe that wasn't what she should do. I turned the water off and ran my hands over my face and down my neck, my fingers brushing over the delicate necklace I still had on. This is who I was now, this was my life. A companion to a murderer and a terrorist. Wouldn’t that make me a murderer and terrorist by proxy? I heard the door click open and I quickly wiped my face off, getting rid of any indication I had been distraught. I found soreness beginning to set in between my legs, a reminder of what had happened minutes ago. I deserve this, I deserve this feeling. It reminds me that I am human and I deserve to feel something, anything besides fear. I sniffed, coming out of the bathroom and padded to the french doors.

“Loup?” Immediately I was crippled by a pain in my leg, as if someone struck me with a pipe. A clammy hand found its way around my mouth and I tried my best to stay calm, but to no avail. 

“Call him, and tell him to come up here now.” The voice hissed, pushing me outside and shoving my phone in my face. I shakily hit the contact name and prayed he answered quickly. 

“What is it?”  _ Oh yes, my loup. _ I gathered myself and exhaled a breath I didn’t know I held in.

“Come back up to the room.” My tone seemed to shock him, the frustration from my interruption almost nonexistent. It was loud, very unlike the table. He had to have finished and been at the bar or cashing out. 

“Oh? Not aching for me too bad I hope.” He had no idea I had a knife to my throat, threatening to dump me at any moment.

“Please...I-” I looked to the albino man covered in tattoos whose face wasn’t too kind.

“I need you.” I finished, hearing him laugh. I could almost see his smile through the phone, that devil smile that made me want to hit him. Did I care for this monster? Was the Stockholm finally setting in? 

“Alright, I’ll be up soon.” He hung up and the man struck me in the face this time, my cheek now flaming with pain. Le Chiffre wouldn’t take kindly to anyone marking up his pretty thing. The albino man and his colleague stood on the end of the balcony, hiding from the sight of the front door. 

“Don't move a muscle or I’ll kill you where you stand do you understand?” He sounded South African maybe Cape Town? It didn’t matter, what mattered is that I could hear the door click and Le Chiffre throw his inhaler on the table, causing it to clink as it hit the bottle I had set there earlier. 

“Alright, you may have your way with me now, belle.” He called, excitement evident in his voice. My heart fell as he walked through the doors only to be pushed back into the wall, the knife pointed to his throat now and my hands trapped behind my back as the henchman held me still, his own knife pointed at my side. 

“Where’s my money! I know you have it!” It was all coming back to me now. It was as hot night, as is every night in Africa, and this man didn’t have any more chips to play. He bet his entire inventory of cocaine that he was smuggling for someone...oh what was his name..Jakande. Mose Jakande. I could only assume he found out and needed them back. The drugs were long gone. Le Chiffre had traded them to some other drug lord for 1.2 million and that was on top of the 2 million he had won from the game earlier that night. 

“Your money is long gone.” I winced as his hand connected with Le Chiffre’s face but the man holding me forced me to watch. My eyes darted around the room looking for something, anything to get out of his hold. 

“It’s gone huh? How about I just take your bitch? She’ll catch a pretty penny on the market don’t you think?” the knife was removed from my side and the man trailed the point up my leg, catching the fabric and exposing more and more of my skin, I squirmed, holding my robe down, not daring to let my tears fall. I looked to Le Chiffre, his face unamused and not showing me much of any emotion. Did he really care that I could be taken away? He turned me around so I would face him and I noticed he was burnt on more than half of his body as he poked and prodded at the rest of my body. That’s when I saw it. In my squirming mess, the light shone brightly on my medical kit that I had set aside earlier that week. Alex had been shot in the side and I had to remove the bullet. My scalpel, tweezers and wrappings were set out, never put away. As I struggled against the man who tried to undress me, Le Chiffre’s struggling and scream made me more alert than my own. I craned my neck to see the man making a series of cuts in his chest, all across his torso. I strained, reaching out quickly and grabbing the scalpel, stabbing the man who held me in the carotid artery. I watched him choke on his own blood and fall to the ground, gasping for air and only getting a mouth full of blood. 

“You bitch!” The tattooed man let go of Le Chiffre and began to head towards me, a wild look in his eye and the knife above his head, ready to strike me down. I waited for it. I waited for the sting of the knife in my chest and it never came. I jumped at the loud sound after I closed my eyes and felt a splatter against my midsection. I opened my eyes to see Jean on the floor, the drawer next to the door open and a gun in his hand, which he tossed across the floor, out of breath and sucking his teeth as he sat up, the pain in his bleeding chest now evident more than ever. I looked down at my hands, covered in red, warm, stickiness, and dropped the instrument I had, it clanging on the ground. I am no better than him. Murdering. Killing. Taking lives that I had no business taking. I felt my throat begin to close up and my face was hot. I took a few deep breaths and grabbed the rest of my medical kit, stumbling over to Le Chiffre who had his eyes closed and his breathing labored. Panic began to set in and the pain in my leg was more intense than earlier. I quickly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, peeling it off of him as fast as I could and grabbed what I could to stop the bleeding. I pat his face lightly, trying to get him to look at me.

“Hey, Hey now, no, you need to wake up. Le Chiffre, love you have to stay awake, talk to me. Jean. Jean talk to me.” His eyes fluttered open slowly and he swallowed, trying to talk, trying to stay awake. I could cry I was so happy he was alert and awake. 

“That’s good, hey love. Talk to me, tell me anything. You have to stay awake. Your name’s Jean?” I asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the table next to the door and pouring it out on the cloth, pressing it his chest and earning a hiss.

“I haven’t been called that in a long time...It sounded so good coming from your lips....” He trailed off and his eyes were closed again. I smacked his cheeks a couple more times, grabbing the antibiotic.

“No, No Jean, you have to stay awake, how did you get your name?” He laughed, his eyes opening again, lazily.

“My mother. She was a seamstress in France. She was a good catholic woman and the pregnancy with me was...difficult.” He hissed again as I rubbed the antibiotic on his chest. 

“Okay why’s that? You’re doing so well love, keep talking.” I encouraged, rifling through the bag for gauze and tape.

“My father’s work wasn’t unlike mine. She was alone a lot and added stress caused her to deliver early, causing the problem with my eye.” I taped down the bandage and smiled sadly at the man as I forced him up to walk him to the bathroom.

“Keep talking, we’re almost to the bathroom, We’ll get you cleaned up.” I said, limping while I held up the man who was almost twice my size.

“She called me Jean, meaning God is gracious.” I had learned more about this man in the last 45 minutes than I ever did when I was with him for the last year. He held himself up on the counter with his hands, struggling but able to do so. I turned the water to the tub on, putting the stopper in and ran my hands under the sink where he stood, trying to rid myself of the blood I had caked on my hands and arms. I saw him try to undo his belt himself and I placed my hand over his own, getting on my knees to take off his shoes and his socks then rising to my full height to fiddle with his belt. He had a dreamy look on his face as he studied me, I only noticed because I glanced at him, his hair falling from it’s usually perfect placement. I undressed him fully and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll call Mathis. Get this cleaned up. Get in, you’ll feel better.” I pushed, nodding him in the direction of the warm bath I drew. I turned to leave, being stopped by him grabbing my hand and placing a kiss to my palm before getting into the bath. I grabbed my phone I had thrown next to his inhaler and pulled up Mathis name.

“Lovely to hear from you Dr. Girard. What do I owe the pleasure?” I let out a cough and crossed my arms, peering into the bathroom to see Jean in the tub, both arms resting on the edge, his head thrown back and eyes closed again.

“I need you to get rid of a couple of things. They’re laying in the living room when you get here. I don’t want him disturbed so If you could do it quietly and quickly that would be ideal.” I whispered, closing the french doors to the bedroom after grabbing the glasses and bottle of wine I had laid out earlier.

“I will do my absolute best, Dr Girard.” I placed the glasses on the dressed and ran a hand through my hair, sighing deeply.

“Thank you Mathis. Goodnight.” I threw the phone onto the bed and looked for a change of clothes so I would be able to sleep more soundly. 

“Belle,” When he called me I shivered. He was an enigma wrapped in a riddle and I wanted to be enveloped by him. I stopped my shuffling and padded into the bathroom where he sat in the tub, the water still steaming. He pulled on my hand, nodding to the water and I obliged, dropping the robe and stepping into the tub,one leg on each side of him, straddling the beast. He pushed a strand of hair out of the way and lightly took my chin, pulling my mouth to his. When he broke us apart, he rested his forehead on my own. This man, this was Jean. Le Chiffre had hid away and for how long I didn’t know but this was Jean. A man who needed to be needed, who needed to be held together right now and I was the one to do it. We stayed like that for a minute, him just resting. After a while the water became cool and I stepped out, grabbing the towels that were hung near the door and handing him one after wrapping myself in one. Neither of us bothered with clothes that night when we crawled into bed, my mind still trying to process that I killed a man. I allowed myself to curl into him, my arm splayed across his stomach and my head on his shoulder as he lazily drew circles on my bare shoulder.

“That isn’t how I planned on this night going.” I said, breaking the silence that deafened the room. He smiled into my hair, kissing it three times. 

“I’m surprised you aren’t used to it by now.” He mumbled into my hair. 

“It’s like there’s blood on my hands. I can’t wash it off no matter how hard I try. I’m a monster.” I could feel the tears begin to well up and I wouldn’t allow them to fall. 

“You aren’t a monster. Just bedding one.” If he was trying to be funny it wasn’t working because he was right. I allowed a monster to corrupt me. This is who I was now and this was the point of no return. I didn’t love him. I couldn’t. But I may have been dangerously close to it.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't decided if I want to write more on this. It might end up just being a drabble.


End file.
